


Imagine your first date

by Lenni51074



Series: Avengers Imagines [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Dates, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-11-15 23:19:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18082883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenni51074/pseuds/Lenni51074
Summary: An expanded chapter from my Avengers Imagines work, describing the first date you go on with the Avenger of your dreams.





	1. Tony

You heard a soft knock on your office door and turned around, astonished to find an almost shy-looking Tony Stark standing there.

“Good afternoon, Tony. Is there something I can help you with?”

He nodded. “Yes. You can join me for dinner tonight. 8pm. Dress fancy.”

“Tony…”

He didn’t give you the chance to protest. “I’ve made reservations for the two of us for dinner at [Chef’s Table](https://www.brooklynfare.com/pages/chefs-table). I’d really appreciate the opportunity to get to know you better outside of work.”

“You managed to get a booking at Chef’s Table?” you asked incredulously. Because of course he did. _Of course_ Tony Stark was able to make a dinner reservation at a three-Michelin starred restaurant that served a ridiculously large degustation menu and had a wine list boasting more grape varieties than you knew even existed. The place was probably booked out months in advance for the unwashed masses. Tony, however, was part of the New York glitterati. The maître d’ would probably cancel dinner for the President himself in order to squeeze Tony Stark in.

“Tony, I can’t possibly go to dinner with you tonight. For one thing, it’s the middle of the week, and I have an important meeting in the morning. Also,” you added lamely, “I don’t have anything suitable to wear to such a high-end restaurant.”

Tony just stared at you, arms crossed in front of his chest as he leant nonchalantly against the doorframe. “I’ve taken the liberty of clearing your calendar for the rest of the day so that you can go shopping. Happy will take you now. And Pepper has already rescheduled your meeting for next week, and has very nicely given you the day off tomorrow, after I groveled and begged and threatened to cry in front of her if she didn’t. So now you have no excuses.” He grinned at you expectantly.

You were intrigued. Tony Stark frustrated you beyond belief, and you honestly had no idea what a man of his calibre would want from you. The fact that Pepper Potts, of all people, had rearranged things in order for you to attend a last-minute dinner with the man who was technically your boss just added to your curiosity.

So you shrugged your shoulders, and grudgingly accepted his offer of dinner. It would be an interesting night, if nothing else.

*****************************************************

After your shopping trip – which made you feel a bit like Julia Roberts in _Pretty Woman_ , given that Tony had handed over his credit card for the occasion – you made yourself as presentable as you could, given your nerves.

You had chosen a knee-length black dress with a sheer overlay, which was modest but flattering. It also wasn’t too tight, which you felt would allow you to indulge in the lavish feast that you were about to partake in. If you were going to eat that much food, you were going to need clothes that had room to expand.

Slipping your feet into the brand new black block-heeled sandals you’d also purchased that afternoon, you chose a pair of gold hoop earrings to complete the look. Minimal jewelry was your preferred option for most occasions. Working for Pepper had reiterated your belief that less is more when it comes to fashion. Your mentor was always so immaculate, and you strived to emulate her, both professionally and sartorially.

 

 

 

Grabbing your clutch, you locked your apartment and headed downstairs. Happy was waiting outside your apartment, having been given strict instructions by Tony not to allow you to back out of the date at the last minute. You followed Tony’s ‘forehead of security’ to the towncar and tried to stop yourself from chewing your fingernails due to your nervousness.

Tony was waiting outside the restaurant when you arrived, looking as handsome as ever in a dark pin-striped suit, with a crisp white shirt and dark blue tie. His hair was artfully disheveled, and his dark eyes glittered with barely-suppressed glee when he noticed you exiting the vehicle.

 

 

“Hi, Tony,” you started to greet him. Your words, however, were cut off by Tony grabbing you for a passionate kiss. There was no preamble; he just grabbed you and stuck his tongue down your throat before you had time to register what was happening. However, just as you were beginning to respond to the kiss, there was a subtle cough from the maître d’.

Tony relinquished his hold on your face, and instead grabbed one of your hands in his, interlacing his fingers with yours. His hand was warm and slightly calloused, and you found it surprisingly comforting. Turning to the maître d’, he said, “Booking for two.”  
  
“Certainly, Mr Stark. Please follow me.” You both followed the man, who lead you to the kitchen counter in the centre of the restaurant, where the chef was busy preparing the evening’s dishes.

You gazed around the restaurant, noting with surprise that, other than the staff, the place was empty apart from yourself and Tony. Given that it was eight o’clock in the evening, it should have been teeming with activity.

“Please don’t tell me that you booked out the _entire restaurant_ just for the two of us,” you hissed at him in horror.

Tony waved his hand dismissively. “Of course I did. As I told you earlier today, I would like to get to know you better. I would prefer not to have any interruptions.” He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the back of your hand. “For once, I would like to have dinner with a beautiful woman without half of New York watching and gossiping about it. Nobody coming up asking for an autograph or an interview or a selfie. No cameras. Just you and me.”

“It must be exhausting being you.” You smiled softly, so that he knew your comment was meant in jest.

He shrugged. “It can be. As much as I love what I do, sometimes I just want the chance to be myself. I feel like a performing seal a lot of the time.”

The maître d’ handed you both menus outlining tonight’s dishes. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head as you looked at the bewildering amount listed in front of you. Tonight’s meal would consist of a 20-course tasting menu comprised of food whose names you couldn’t pronounce, matched with extremely expensive wines from regions you’d never heard of. You shuddered at the price – it cost more per person than you had ever paid for an entire meal even with a large group of your friends, and that didn’t even include drinks! - but of course for Tony it was pocket change.

“Tony, this restaurant has over 7000 different wines!”

“I know. Their cellar is even more impressive than mine.”  
  
“Completely unacceptable. I’m not sure there’s going to be a second date if you can’t even sort out your wine cellar,” you smirked, giggling as Tony put his hand to his chest in mock offense.

“I’m hurt. I’ll have my sommelier fired immediately and hire this guy instead,” Tony replied, half-jokingly.

The chef placed a tiny portion of the most delicate looking seafood in front of you. It was almost microscopic, it was so small. But if they wanted to serve 20 courses, then you supposed it made sense not to put more than a mouthful on each plate. Tony watched as you popped the delicacy in your mouth, and tried to suppress a laugh as you nearly moaned in ecstasy.  
  
“Oh. My. _God!_ That is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted!” you exclaimed.

“Trust me, it gets better with every dish.”

You suddenly realised that Tony was still holding your hand. He had not let go since you entered the restaurant. It was a surprisingly tender gesture which touched you. You found yourself opening up to him, telling him about your life growing up in Vancouver before moving to New York for work. Like him, you were an only child, and had also lost your parents in your early twenties – your mother to cancer, and then less than a year later, your father had died of a broken heart. Tony listened to you talk without interruption, the conversation only pausing when the next dish was placed on the counter in front of you.

He enjoyed watching your facial expressions as you tasted each plate. The way you closed your eyes with satisfaction, the small smile of pleasure, the sensuous way you shuddered with delight after each mouthful. He was especially enamoured of the way you delicately licked your lips, and found himself desperately wanting to kiss you again.

*****************************************************

As the two of you waited for Happy to bring the towncar around, you turned to Tony and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for dinner, Tony. It was a lovely night. I almost don’t want it to end.”

Tony wrapped his arms around you and kissed you passionately once again. Just as you thought you were going to pass out from the need to catch your breath, he pulled back and stared into your eyes.

“How about we have dessert at my place?” Tony whispered.

The next day you would blame it on the amount of wine you had drunk with dinner, but for now you found yourself nodding wordlessly in agreement, your hand still entwined with Tony’s as he led you to the car.


	2. Steve

You looked up from your computer to find Steve leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his broad chest and a soft smile on his handsome face. You smiled in return, grateful for the excuse to stop work for a few moments.  
  
“Hey, Steve. Are you here for a specific purpose, or are you just in the habit of taking up huge amounts of space while lounging in doorways?”  
  
He grinned. “I was just in the design department discussing some details for the new combat suit, and thought I’d pop in to say ‘Hi’ before I headed out for lunch. Would you care to join me?”  
  
You heaved a regretful sigh. “Much as I would love to, unfortunately I am right in the middle of a report and I really need to get it done before the end of the day. Can I take a raincheck?”  
  
“Of course.” He looked at you hesitantly, seeming to have an internal discussion with himself about something before speaking again. “Well, Short Stuff, as much fun as baseball is, how about you and I go somewhere different this weekend? Say, Coney Island?”

“Are you asking me to go on a date with you, Cap?” you asked, a slight smirk on your face. Although the two of you regularly attended the baseball together, sitting in the Stark Industries box at Yankee Stadium, it had always seemed strictly platonic. Steve had never actually asked you to go anywhere with him before, except for the occasional coffee.

“Um, yeah…” He rubbed the back of his neck, blushing slightly. “I just thought it might be nice to spend some time together without arguing about baseball for a change.”

Your grin widened. “Sure! Coney Island sounds like fun.”

The relief on Steve’s face was obvious. How could he ever have thought you’d say no? “Great, doll! So, I guess I’ll pick up around 10 on Saturday morning? That should give us plenty of time to do everything. It will be interesting to see how much has changed since the ‘40s.”  
  
“I look forward to it, Steve.”

***********************************************

As promised, Steve knocked on your door promptly at 10am on Saturday morning. You opened the door to your apartment. Steve stood there shyly, and blushed furiously as he offered you a small bouquet of red roses. “These are for you, doll.”  
  
“That is so sweet, Steve. Please, come in while I put these in some water.”

You grinned at him when you noted that he was wearing a baseball cap, a pair of sunglasses hooked into the collar of his t-shirt. “Is this the standard issue disguise given to all superheroes so you can wander around without everybody fangirling over you?”

He returned your grin with one of his own. “Well, I thought the fact that I was in a Yankees cap might throw them off the scent. Who’s going to believe that it’s Captain America under this?”

Steve made absolutely no secret of the fact that he detested the Yankees, despite religiously attending their games whenever they were at home. He protested that it was only because his beloved Brooklyn Dodgers were now based in LA, and Yankee Stadium was much less farther to commute. Also, he couldn’t quite bring himself to support the Mets either.

Steve cast an approving look over you. “I like the outfit, doll. Very patriotic.”

“Yes, well, if I’m spending the day with Captain America then I need to look the part, don’t I?” you teased.

Rolling his eyes, Steve offered you his arm like the gentleman he was. “Shall we, doll?”

You looped your arm through his, and smiled up at him. “We shall, Captain.”

***********************************************

“Man, this place is a _lot_ busier than it was back in my day,” Steve said softly.

“What would you like to do first?”  
  
“Do you mind if we just walk around for a bit? I want to see how much has changed,” Steve replied.

You laced your fingers through his. “I don’t mind at all.”  
  
It was nice to walk around, just the two of you, without a care in the world. Steve pointed out things that had been added since he’d last been to Coney Island more than seventy years ago, as well as telling you where some things used to be that were now long gone.

“Oh, look, the line for the Cyclone isn’t that long. We should go on it,” you said eagerly.

Steve gave you a pained look. “Do we have to?”

“No trip to Coney Island is complete without a ride on the Cyclone.”

He gave in, although grudgingly, and the two of you lined up for the roller coaster. “You know, Bucky made me ride on this when we were younger. The jerk thought it was funny when I threw up everywhere afterward.”

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine, Steve,” you said, patting his arm reassuringly. He didn’t look convinced.

The two of you were strapped in, and if Steve’s grip on your hand tightened when the roller coaster climbed to the pinnacle, you were kind enough not to mention it. You also didn’t say anything when you saw that his eyes were squeezed shut the entire time, and that he was the only person not squealing with delight for the duration of the ride.

Steve looked slightly green when the two of you got off the Cyclone. “Yep. Hated it then, and I still don’t like it.”

You kissed his cheek. “You were very brave. Thank you for coming along for the ride.”

He blushed several shades of red, before dragging you along the boardwalk to the next attraction.

The two of you gawked at the Circus Sideshow – Steve in particular was intrigued by the sword swallower – and wandered through the museum which housed vintage games and rides, as well as detailing the history of Coney Island. Neither of you felt particularly terrified in the horror-themed Ghost Hole, and Steve sulked when you beat him on the Coney Island Raceway. You laughed when he tried to squeeze his large frame into the bumper cars, to which he very maturely poked his tongue out at you and then proceeded to ‘accidentally’ ram into your car every five seconds in retaliation.

You were disappointed at Steve’s distinct lack of enthusiasm when you suggested stealing an otter from the New York Aquarium, and you had to put your foot down when he discovered the Brooklyn Cyclones Minor League team had a game on.

You both ate far too many hotdogs and drank too much beer, and neither of you cared. Steve won the biggest stuffed animal he could find for you in the arcade games, which caused you to wonder how on earth you were going to get it back to the Compound.

As you were finishing the cotton candy that you most definitely did not need, Steve grabbed your hand and pulled you to a stop next to the Wonder Wheel. “You can’t come to Coney Island without going on the Wonder Wheel,” he insisted.

“I’m not that great with heights,” you protested.

Steve quirked an eyebrow at you. “So you have no problems with hurtling around a wooden track in a teeny tiny little train at a million miles an hour, but you’re scared of a big old ferris wheel?”

“Fine. I suppose if you can go on the Cyclone, then I can suck it up and go on the ferris wheel.” You tried to put on a brave face.

“I’ll make sure you don’t fall out, doll.”  
  
“That’s not helping!”  
  
Steve kept a firm grip on your waist as you entered the carriage – of course he chose the red and blue swinging ones in the middle, rather than the stationary ones on the outside – and pulled you onto his lap, wrapping his strong arms around you. “Don’t worry, doll. I’ve got you.”  
  
You tried not to squeak when the carriage began to move, and Steve kept whispering in your ear that everything was going to be fine. His breath tickled your ear, and it was incredibly distracting, so that in the end you almost forgot to be scared.

Suddenly, the carriage came to a stop at the top of the ferris wheel. “Why did we stop? Is it broken?” you asked in a panic.  
  
Steve chuckled. “No, doll. It’s fine. We just get to appreciate the view from up here.”  
  
You looked out over the boardwalk, and gasped with delight. The sun was setting, and the lights were starting to reflect on the water. It was beautiful. You turned to say as much to Steve, and were startled to find his face extremely close to yours. His deep blue eyes looked into yours.

“Still scared, doll?”  
  
“Maybe a little,” you admitted.

“Hmmm. I might need to take your mind off it for a bit.” His eyes dropped to your lips, then flicked back up to your eyes. “Can I kiss you, doll?” he whispered.

You were too mesmerised by his gaze to do anything other than nod. He pressed his lips to yours, softly at first, but it didn’t take long for the intensity to build. Steve had one hand on the back of your neck and the other resting on your waist, while your hands twined into his hair. His tongue swiped along the seam of your mouth, seeking permission which you eagerly granted, and before long you forgot about everything except the taste of him.

Far too soon for your liking, he pulled away, breathing heavily. He rested his forehead against yours, and you noticed that the carriage had started its descent. Steve pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, before offering his hand to help you out of the carriage.

He piggybacked you all the way back to home, and reluctantly left you at the door of your apartment with a soft kiss and a promise to call you in the morning.

It was the best date you had ever had, and you couldn’t wait for the next one.


End file.
